


Hot and Bothered (but mostly just bothered)

by kitsunequeen



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Deputy Derek Hale, Deputy Stiles Stilinski, First Meetings, Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-14
Updated: 2015-08-14
Packaged: 2018-04-14 17:45:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,305
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4573854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kitsunequeen/pseuds/kitsunequeen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>"You're the newbie in the station, and damn you're hot, bUT DID YOU JUST ARREST MY SIBLING?" au</em>
</p><p>------</p><p>“You could’ve let me know,” Derek says. “That’s kind of what we do around here.”</p><p>“Not like I have your phone number,” Stiles points out, raising an eyebrow in a way that’s most definitely a challenge.</p><p>Oh, great. The new guy wants to prove how cool he is by mouthing off to someone’s who’s been around longer. Fun.</p><p>“Well, Deputy, you have a radio, don’t you? And if you were interested in calling, every other guy here <em>does</em> have my number.”</p><p>“Well, aren’t <em>you</em> just Mr. Popular!”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hot and Bothered (but mostly just bothered)

“ _Cora?_ ”

“Hey, Der,” she says, scowling up at him. “Wanna tell your asshole coworker to let me go?”

Derek’s just gotten off his lunch break, only to come back and find his little sister sitting on the bench in the sheriff’s station, her wrists handcuffed down. Which is just…  _what?_

“What’re you doing here?” he demands. 

He’s standing over her, arms crossed, and she looks somewhat amused at his annoyance. Frankly, he doesn’t even know who he’s annoyed at yet. All the guys at the station know his sister, and wouldn’t take her in unless she was doing something pretty bad, but while mischievous, Cora doesn’t actually make any real trouble. Nothing bad enough to get her arrested, for sure.

“I was following that omega,” she says, lowering her voice. “A deputy drove past, and apparently thought I seemed suspicious. Turns out, they’re looking for a brunette girl around my age with similar features—AKA the dumbass omega I was looking for—for assaulting some guy last week, so he took me down to the station. I’m waiting for him to run my prints.”

She rolls her eyes, leaning farther back against the bench.

“What was his name?” Derek sighs.

“Dunno,” Cora says. “There was no badge on his shirt, and when he flashed it it had some weird name on it. He was supposed to be undercover, I guess, but I’ve never even seen him before. Didn’t you say they hired a new guy while you were on sick leave? Maybe it’s him.”

Sick leave, or more accurately, taking a week off to hunt down that rogue omega. As much as Derek likes the police force, their methods simply can’t compare to werewolf senses, and it’s not like he can just shift on the job. Somehow, the omega keeps evading them, and she’s been mercilessly wreaking havoc in town. The closest the station has come to catching her is getting her fingerprints, and now taking in Cora. Who, obviously, is the wrong person.  

Derek is aware that a few of his friends are watching the exchange from their desks, and he sighs.

“Jordan,” he says, turning to look at Parrish. “Was this the new guy?”

“Yep,” Jordan says, clearly trying not to laugh. Cora’s practically his little sister, too, with the amount of time he and Derek spend together. “I tried explaining to him that you guys are related, but he said he’s ‘never met this Derek guy’ and wants to be safe. So…”

He shrugs.

“I’ll go find him,” Derek tells Cora, before turning back to Parrish. “New guy got a name?”

“Stiles,” says a different voice from behind him. “I take it you’re Derek Hale?”

Derek turns around, surprised to see the man standing right behind him. He’s probably in his mid-twenties, with brown hair and bright, whiskey eyes. His face and neck are dotted with little moles that trail down under his shirt collar.

“Deputy Stiles,” Derek says, nodding at him. “Nice to meet you.”

Stiles’ lips twitch, but whatever it is that he finds so funny, he doesn’t share.

“Deputy Hale,” he says, reaching out a hand.

Derek shakes it warily, because he’s still a little pissed at the guy. Around the station, it’s kind of protocol to let someone know if any of their relatives have gotten in trouble.

“You brought my sister in?” Derek asks, crossing his arms again.

“I did,” Stiles says professionally, crossing his to match Derek’s.

Normally it would be much less impressive, considering Derek’s muscles, but something about the guy’s lean build is pretty attractive. Not that he should be thinking about that right now. He’s  _mad_ , okay? 

“You could’ve let me know,” Derek says. “That’s kind of what we do around here.”

“Not like I have your phone number,” Stiles points out, raising an eyebrow in a way that’s most definitely a challenge.

Oh, great. The new guy wants to prove how cool he is by mouthing off to someone’s who’s been around longer. Fun.

“Well, Deputy, you have a radio, don’t you? And if you were interested in calling, every other guy here  _does_  have my number.”

“Well, aren’t  _you_  just Mr. Popular!” 

“That’s not what I-”

“Mhmmmmm.”

“Listen,” Derek says, forcing himself to stay calm. “I get that you’re new here, but if we take someone’s relative in, we call them. It’s common courtesy. Ever heard of it?”

“Can’t say that I have.”

Derek glares.

“Cora, did you  _tell him_  we were related?”

“About seven times,” she says.

She’s not even trying to hide her smile as she watches the not-quite-argument, along with half the rest of the station.

“In the future,” Derek says, “if you run into another deputy’s relative, you should let them know. Or let them  _go_ , if they’re not really doing anything wrong.”

“Let them go?” Stiles scoffs. “I’m sorry, did that sound less corrupt in your head?”

“No,” Derek snaps. “If she was stealing a little old lady’s purse, then you should go ahead and arrest her, and you  _still_  call me, because I’d chew her out worse than you ever would, and it’d be dealt with accordingly. But if she’s standing around, ‘looking suspicious’, and she tells you I’m her brother, then you call me so I can see what’s going on, before you just drag her down here and  _handcuff_  her.”

“That’s screwed up,” Stiles says, shaking his head.

“It’s  _polite_. And you think it’s wrong? Take it up with the sheriff. His kid would’ve had  _seventeen_  tickets for his driving by now, if he weren’t his son.”

Stiles does that little half-smile thing again, but it’s gone just as quickly as it came.

“Well anyway, she wasn’t just standing around,” he says. “She was practically stalking somebody, and she matched the description of one of the girls we’re looking for.”

“Cora, why were you following someone?” Derek says, because honestly, she’s a better liar than he is.

“It was just Julia, Der.”

“Who’s Julia?” Stiles asks.

“My best friend,” Cora says smoothly.

“Why were you following her?”

“So I could come up behind her and make her jump.”

“What’s her last name?”

“Aaron.”

“Parents’ names?”

“Jeff and Alana.”

“Where does she live?”

“Why?” Cora asks. “You wanna follow her around too? I think she’d mind a little more if it was some old guy.”

“I’m twenty-five!” Stiles says indignantly, and Cora laughs.

“ _Okay_ ,” Derek cuts in. “I’m pretty sure this isn’t how we do interrogations, Stiles. And you have no  _reason_ to be interrogating her. Did you run her fingerprints?”

“Clean.”

“Then why is she still here?”

“She was acting suspicious,” he shrugs. “Just making sure.”

“Well, you’re done now,” Derek tells him pointedly. “Let her up.”

Stiles does, pulling out the key and unlocking the cuffs.

“You can go,” he says. “Sorry about that.”

“Oh, no problem,” Cora says, rolling her eyes. “Not like I had anything better to do today.”

“Oh, actually,” he says, smirking, “I meant about being related to Derek.”

Cora bursts out laughing, and even a few of Derek’s friends chuckle.

“ _What_  is your problem?” Derek demands, jabbing a finger at him.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Sheriff Stilinski says, stepping out of his office. “What’s going on here?”

“Deputy Stiles dragged Cora down here for no reason, and didn’t even bother to tell me,” Derek huffs.

He calms his tone, though, because he really should be civil in front of his boss. Besides, John’s a cool guy, and Derek doesn’t really want to upset him.

“Son, are you antagonizing the other deputies?” John sighs, setting a hand on Stiles’ shoulder.

“Depends on who you ask,” Stiles says, shrugging.

“You could show your boss some respect,” Derek snaps.

“My dad.”

“Your-  _what?_ ”

Derek can practically feel cogs spinning in his head. Sure, the sheriff had called him ‘son’, but he calls  _everybody_ that. That’s not- that doesn’t-

“His son has some crazily long name,” Derek blurts, which probably wasn’t the most intelligent thing he could’ve said, but he’s still trying to process this.

It’s a joke around the station, even, when John isn’t around. Every time someone pulls the kid over, he pulls out his ID and explains who his dad is, then mumbles some awkward speech about how he knows–well, the fourteen letter monstrosity, that Derek still can’t pronounce—is a strange name, but that it’s not what he likes to go by. He never actually told any of the deputies his nickname, though, as far as Derek is concerned. 

“Yup,” Stiles says, fishing around in his pocket. He pulls out a badge with…  _something_ , Derek doesn’t even want to guess, printed on it. “I go by Stiles, though. Stiles  _Stilinski_. Station’s newest undercover cop, and son of the sheriff.”

He’s grinning, clearly pleased about making Derek look like an idiot.

“I-” Derek starts, and he can feel a horrible blush creeping up his cheeks. “I’m sorry, Sheriff, I didn’t-

“Don’t, Hale,” John says, Derek has a horrible moment of thinking he’s going to fired on the spot, right in front of his little sister, before the sheriff continues. “Stiles, tell Derek you’re sorry.”

Oh, god. John Stilinski is the best. Being forced to apologize by his father in front of most of the force is almost as bad as what Derek just did.

“What?” Stiles squawks. “How do you know it’s  _my_  fault?”

“I don’t know if you started it,” John says tiredly. “But I raised you for eighteen years, kiddo. I know you probably made it worse.”

Stiles’ face flies through a wide range of emotions, from indignance to exasperation, before finally, amazingly, landing on amusement.

“I kinda did,” he says. “Sorry, dude. You were sorta an asshole, but I was too. We good?”

John runs a hand over his face, muttering, “Can you kindly refrain from calling my men  _assholes_ , Stiles?”

“No it’s- it’s fine,” Derek says, because really, if he blushes any harder his face might explode, and he just wants to get the hell back to his desk.  “I was being a jerk too. We’re fine.”

He reaches out a hand again, and Stiles shakes it, biting his lip bottom to keep from smiling in front of his dad.

“Good,” John says, clapping both of them on the back. “Get back to work, Hale. And Stiles, can I see you in my office for a minute?”  

He walks back to his office and Stiles follows, a hand pressed over his mouth as he walks away, shaking with silent laughter.

Derek stands in front of the bench a few moments longer, and it’s deadly silent till the sheriff closes the door.

“Holy fuck,” he finally mutters, breaking the spell in the room. All the deputies start cracking up, and Derek’s infinitely glad he’s actually friends with all these guys, because that’s the only way this could be worse. “You could’ve warned me,” he tells the room at large.

“Sorry!” Jordan calls from his desk, as Derek heads back to his own. “I would’ve, but then Stiles showed up. Plus, that was kind of great.”

A chorus of agreement goes around the room, and Derek has to use incredible willpower to keep himself from smacking his head down on his desk.

* * *

Five hours and halfway through a stack of paperwork later, Stiles appears at Derek’s desk. He plants his palms down, leaning over it, and Derek looks up at him suspiciously.

“What do you want?” he grumbles.

It might be a little childish, but he doesn’t really care.

“A cup of coffee.”

“Machine’s in the breakroom,” Derek huffs, and he might be pressing his pen down a little harder than is entirely necessary.

“I meant with you,” Stiles says. “Maybe we can go to Mocha Machine after your shift?”

“I don’t need some my-dad’s-making-me-be-nice-to-you thing. You can just tell him we went.”

“Mmm, that’s not quite it,” Stiles hums. “It was more like an I-think-it’s-adorable-that-even-the-tips-of-your-ears-get-pink-when-you-blush kind of thing. And less of a thing, and more of a date. Maybe I could even get that phone number every guy here has.”

Derek blinks up at him stupidly.

“What?”

“I think you’re cute,” Stiles says bluntly. “And uh, your ears are kinda starting to do their thing right now, so…”

“You want to go on a date,” Derek repeats. “With me.”

He’s jumped to enough wrong conclusions today—he doesn’t need any more.

“Yep,” Stiles says. “Me. You. On a date. In a coffee shop. Both of us. At the same time. Togeth-”

“Okay,” Derek interrupts. “I get it.”

“So, is that a yes…?” Stiles asks, looking, for the first time, a little nervous.

Stiles is definitely kind of cute himself, Derek decides.

“Yeah,” he says. “Uh, sure. I get off in twenty minutes.”

“Awesome,” Stiles says. “My car’s the blue Jeep out front. I’ll drive us there. If you can’t find it, I’m sure one of the other deputies can help you. After all, they’ve pulled me over _seventeen_  times,” he says, smirking. “See you.”

And just like that, he’s walking away and out the station doors.

Derek stares dumbly after him for a moment, before the station breaks out in a cacophony of cheers and boos.

“Are you-" he splutters, looking around as the others pass money back and forth. “Did you guys  _bet_  on that?”

“Sorry, dude,” Jordan says. “Way too much sexual tension in that argument. I just won twenty because you didn’t make out, so high five!”

He high fives the air, and Derek halfheartedly raises a hand from across the station.

“You know, there’s probably a million laws about gambling in a police station,” he points out.

“Go tell your father-in-law,” Deputy Graeme laughs.

“He’s  _not_  my-”

“Fifty bucks says he is by the end of the year!” someone calls.

“By next January!”

“Next March!”

“Next June!”

“Next Thursday!”

* * *

It’s June.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed!
> 
> Visit me on tumblr at [stilesbansheequeen](http://stilesbansheequeen.tumblr.com/)!
> 
> Comments and kudos are always appreciated<3


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